Between a Rat and a Hard Place
by SetsunaNoroi
Summary: Nega is a rat fighting in the Plutarkian War for money and her hatred of mice. So what's her reaction when she gets stuck alone with THE General Stoker and all he seems to want is to annoy her to death, and worse yet, save her life? Rated for Nega's mouth
1. Chapter 1

Okay, I wrote this because when looking this site over, I noticed there is a SERIOUS lack of Stoker fics out there. Come on, he's so cool! Why isn't he getting more attention? Since there only seem to be a handful of stories out there for him, and most of them look like there never to be finished from the update dates, I decided to write one for him.

Much like Don't Worry, this is intended as a one shot, but if you like there may be more. I'll be playing it all by ear, and it depends entirely on your reviews. (Notice the subtle hint I'm giving here?)

I'm not sure how big of a consideration this is, but I should warn you that while I remember watching the Biker Mice series from when I was a kid, I don't remember everything. I mean, I was seven when they were showing reruns, so my memory isn't entirely clear on everything. This takes a huge majority during the Plutarkian War, which is explained mostly in the end of the third series, which unfortunately I don't own, so if make any blatant errors, please bare with me for the sake of the story. Same things with the Rats. I researched as best I could, so hopefully everything will be fine.

So last order of business. I do not own Stoker. I do not own the Freedom Fighters. I do not own Mars. I don't own a lot of crap, it all belongs to somebody richer and cooler than me. I do however own Nega and all of her spite-filled attitude.

Yay.

_**Between a Rat and a Hard Place**_

Pain shot through Nega as she tried to move the boulder lying on her leg. Her arms pushed fruitlessly and she hit the thing in frustration. It was no good, she couldn't make the thing budge and she definitely couldn't move. The large boulder was propped up slightly by a rock next to her knee, and it was the only thing keeping her left leg from being totally crushed. Unfortunately it wasn't big enough to give her the room needed to pull herself from out underneath of it.

This goddamn rock was going to kill her, she just knew it. What a pathetic way to die in a war, being caught in the tunnels of Mars, fighting with her team only to have a blast from a lousy teammate bring down the entire place.

She guessed it just went to show her how poor Mars was getting to be these days when it came to sturdiness. The Plutarkians certainly had drilled enough holes in it, not that she had cared.

She honestly hated Mars, but maybe being driven to the worst parts of the planet by the mouse population could do that to you. Growing up in a place were there was barely enough food to survive in a land that was harsh all because the damn mice had superior numbers hadn't exactly made her form a deep love for the red planet. She'd signed on as a mercenary in this bloody war just so she could earn enough money to get off this miserable place and be on her way.

And she was going to starve to death over the weeks because she couldn't move a stupid rock that had fallen on her in her first gunfight in the war.

How fucking pathetic.

Of course, if any of the others had survived, they hadn't stuck around. She saw what looked to be one of her team underneath a large pile of rubble, only an arm and part of his torso visible.

Poor bastard. But at least it had ended quickly for him.

The electric light above her on the ceiling flickered for a moment before going off. Honestly she was surprised the wiring had survived as long as it had from the cave in. Of course, being a rat she didn't need the light but whether she could see or not didn't matter much right now.

The female rat gave one last push before sighing and resting her head against the dusty wall. It was no good, she was stuck, and she wasn't going anywhere for a while.

She looked down next to her, where her pistol was lying. She didn't have a lot of options, and lying there for god knows how long, waiting to die was not something she wanted to do. The longer she waited, the more pain she would feel, and she knew damn well no one was coming to rescue her. This had been little more than a scouting group, no more than five rats, including herself that had come across some mice. Bad timing and a damn trigger-happy asshole had caused her death.

She picked it up and felt the cool metal in her hand. She didn't want to give up, but was there much other choice? She'd starved long enough in her life to know it wasn't how she wanted to go out. Of course, if she still had her knife maybe she could just hack her leg off and try to keep the stump from bleeding while she crawled away, but the thing was too far away for even that stupid idea to be an option.

A suddenly sound of small rocks moving made her turn her head sharply to the source of the noise and raise her gun to it. Whatever was coming she wasn't about to be it's victim. Knowing her luck it'd probably be some stupid Sand Raider.

The rubble of the wall caving her into this small space was pushed away and she heard some panting before a figure climbed though.

"Darn, this is a dead end too," Stoker muttered and raised his flashlight before he saw there was someone else in the room. A rat, partially crushed by some rock had her weapon pointed right at him, fear and anger flashing in her eyes.

"Stay back!" she snarled, obviously trying to sound threatening. Honestly, the fact that she had a gun helped.

She was smaller than most rats he'd seen, but the fact that she was female probably explained that. He didn't think he'd seen a female rat before, at least not that he could remember. Dressed in cargo pants, a long sleeved white shirt covered in dirt, boots and a black vest, she was obviously a soldier. Probably one of the ones he'd just come across with some of his friends when an idiot rat had started firing.

He had his own pistol at his hip, but he doubted he could reach it before she pulled the trigger. The chances of him going back without getting shot seemed just as slim. He noticed the small wince of pain as she moved, trying to keep him in her sights and he sighed.

"Look, you shoot me it's as good as suicide," he stated calmly.

"What do you mean?" she snapped.

"You want me to help you or not?" he asked. "I could probably move that boulder for you."

Nega stared at him. He was offering to help? Why?

"You just saying that so I won't shoot?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered honestly. "I happen to like being amongst the living, as I'm sure is the same for you. You don't kill me, I can get you out of there."

"What's to keep me from killing you afterwards?" she snarled.

"Nothing I guess," he sighed. "I guess that would be just like a rat though, to shoot someone who'd just saved their life."

"Shut the hell up," she snapped. "Don't act like you know me. For all I know you just want the pleasure of watching me suffer."

"I have better ways to spend my time than watching someone die," he replied. "Getting out of here, for one."

"You know a way out?" she asked.

"Possibly. I went the other way at first, hoping I'd be able to get back to my base, but it was blocked off, and there's no way I could dig through it all by myself. I came back this way hoping it was a better shot, but this looks even worse than the first one." He looked at her meanfully. "Of course, two people might have a better shot back the way I came than one."

"You want me to help you?" she asked incredulously. "A rat and mouse working together? Are you serious?"

"It's either that or you shoot me and then rot away all by your lonesome self," he said with a shrug. "Thanks to you guys all my men are gone."

"They're dead?" she asked.

"Not from what I saw," he answered. "Where you guys came in, behind us there was a fork in the cave, all of them went one way and I went another. The tunnel was closed off though, and it doesn't look like anything short of a digging machine is getting through that mess."

"Fucking typical," she muttered. She gets stuck here and not one damn mouse has the decency to die.

"So you want to get out of here or not?" he asked.

She weighed her options. She could let this mouse help her, and be free of that stupid boulder, or she could try and shoot at him and be left to die, whether she hit him or not. He might just be lying about the cave up ahead to try and keep her from shooting him afterwards, but she didn't think she'd do it anyway. She knew her race had a pretty bad reputation, but they only did what they needed to survive.

And while stabbing someone in the back is sometimes what it took to stay alive, she didn't see how it would help in this case. At least for now. She didn't think this mouse's intentions were entirely pure either. He smiled way too much for a guy who had a gun pointed at him.

"Fine," she said and lowered her gun, but didn't let go of it. "But this is just until we get the hell out of here. Then we go our separate ways, got it?"

"I'm sure I'll find some way to cope," he replied with a smirk.

'Asshole,' she thought.

He moved over to her and knelt down next to the boulder, inspecting it.

"I hope this doesn't hurt," he muttered, causing her to blink. What? "You're going to have to move pretty quickly. I don't know how long I'll be able to hold it up."

"Right," she said and nodded.

He put his hands underneath and braced himself before lifting with all his might. He grunted lightly as she slid away from underneath it by dragging herself backwards and he let it drop with a sigh of relief.

"Thanks," she said as she moved to stand up only to have him pin her down. Her eyes went wide in surprise and she was about to shove her gun into his stomach before his tail snatched it out of her hands. Struggling, she attempted to kick him with her good leg.

"Will you calm down?" he asked frustrated as he tried to dodge the blow.

"Bite me! You took my gun!" she accused spitefully before snapping at his face with her teeth.

"What, you thought I actually trusted you not to try to blow my brains out?" he asked angrily. "I need to see if you're all right. You're not going to be much help if you can barely move."

She stopped struggling, only to glare at him.

"There are better ways to ask a lady if she's hurt than to do what you did," she snarled at him.

"Guess it's a good thing rats aren't ladies," he joked before she slugged him. "See, a lady would have just slapped me and huffed."

She couldn't believe he was still cracking jokes as he was sitting on his ass and rubbing his jaw. Too bad he hadn't accidentally bit his own tongue off.

"You going to let me look you over or not?" he asked.

"Not," she answered as she looked down at her leg. Shit, her pants were torn and tinted red from blood, especially at the knee.

"I've got bandages," he taunted in a sing-song voice and she groaned. It was either that or start tearing her shirt up.

"Fine," she muttered and he came closer to her. Her fists clenched as he pulled her pants from out of her boot to inspect her leg closer. She didn't watch as he touched her light gray fur, pressing softly against her to see if anything was broken. She gave a small hiss of pain, but aside from that, it didn't hurt too bad.

"I don't think the damage is too bad," he said as he pulled a few rolls of cloth from out of his side-pouch along with a bottle of clear liquid that she knew wasn't water.

She actually found herself wishing it would hurt more as he dabbed the antiseptic on her scrapped up skin. He was being far too gentle for her to be comfortable with. He was a mouse. He couldn't honestly care if she was hurt, could he?

Getting her to walk was one thing, but he was being careful with her. She hated to admit it, but she didn't think any of her own kind had ever been this nice to her, not even her own family. She'd been the runt of the litter, and they had no problem taking advantage of it.

When the bandages were applied to her knee and he pulled her pants back down she held her hand out expectantly.

"Give me my pistol," she demanded.

"You going to try and kill me?" he asked.

"Trust me, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't bother with a gun," she answered hotly, glad to be away from that stupid tender moment. This guy was the enemy. Nothing more, and she could handle that.

"All right," he said as he gave it back to her. "But put it away or I'm going to have to pull mine out and we both know digging one handed is going to be hard on both of us."

She did as he asked and stooped up her knife before sliding it in the sheath on her ankle. Attempting to stand wasn't fun, but she could keep her weight on her good leg, and aside from a limp, she could walk.

"Lead the way," she said.

"I don't know. That'd give you a pretty good opportunity to get me in the back," he joked.

"I am not going to shoot you," she snorted.

"And here I thought you rats were creatures of opportunity."

"Just get moving," she said. "There's nothing in it for me to kill you. Besides, what makes you think I want you behind me?"

He smiled in a way that was a little too wicked for her liking and crawled though the hole he'd made. She refused his help when she went through, and was glad she was able to get through it without loosing face by falling on her ass or something.

"No light left over here," he said as he waved around his flashlight. "I think the thing got smashed. Can you see?"

"You're kidding, right?" she asked.

"Ah, of course," he noted as he began walking, the small beam of light moving over the rocky walls and floor. "So, what's your name?"

"What?" she asked.

"Your name," he repeated. "Or would you prefer I call you rat the whole time?"

"Nega," she responded. "What about you?"

"Call me Stoker."

She stopped short and he turned around in curiosity to see why she wasn't following.

"Stoker?" she asked. "As in General Stoker?"

"Yeah," he answered. "You've heard of me?"

"Of course I have," she snapped. "You're that freedom fighter leader that's been giving the Plutarkians so much trouble. No wonder they want you dead so much. They say you're a down right arrogant bastard. Heh, guess the rumors are true."

"So, you do work for the Plutarkians," he muttered. "Don't you care about Mars? It's your home they're strip-mining too."

"This planet is not a home," she responded. "Maybe to you, but not to me. Just because rats make good scavengers doesn't mean every one of us enjoys it. The second I make my money, I'm getting the hell off this rock, and if you were smart you'd do the same thing."

"So you're just going to abandon it?" he asked.

"What's there to abandon?" she asked. "Mice kept all the good land for themselves. That may be fine for the Sand Raiders, they don't like civilization that much anyway, but we have every right to this planet as you. If the Plutarkians want to pay to get the resources, more power to the slime balls, as long as I get paid."

"How can you say that?" he asked her. "Look at what they're doing. Look at all the people they've hurt."

"Hey," she snapped. "Don't go sobbing to me about people being hurt. I was abandoned when I was a kid 'cause I was too small to be worth any effort and my brothers and sisters eventually got tired of using me as a punching back. I learned to fight when I was barely old enough to walk in order to stay alive, and all because you're kind thought they had more right to the good land."

"Your kind weren't saints either," he argued. "You think mice are some kind of tyrants? You were all so good at stealing and murdering we didn't want you anywhere near us."

"Bah, go ahead blame us. You-"

"Oh enough," he exclaimed. "We aren't going to accomplish anything by arguing over fights that happened hundreds of years ago. Mice are the bad guys to you, rats are the bad guys to me. We hate each other and if there were a single being more of either species around, one of us would be dead while the other was safely making it out of here with their own kind. As it is, we're both kind of stuck. So why don't we stop arguing morals and get the hell out of here?"

She chewed on her bottom lips and shrugged.

"Sure, what the hell do I care?" she said as she began following him. "Hey, did you know there was a price on your head?"

"Suddenly I feel so much more comfortable around you," he muttered.

"I'm just saying, the Plutarkians hate you a lot. It must mean that you're doing a good job in being a pain in their asses. They try to solve a lot of problems with money, but their greed usually keeps them from offering too much. Hell, no one in the regular army has a price on their heads."

"Really?" he asked. "How much they offering?"

"Let's put it this way, you could personally pay for any city on this planet."

"You planning on trying to collect?"

"If I was going to, I wouldn't have said anything to put you on your guard. I don't know if all of my teammates were killed, so if I come across one and they recognize you, you may want to run."

"I see," he replied. "The second I'm not useful anymore you'll help your friend and cash in on my head."

"None of those rats were my friends," she corrected. "I didn't even know any of their names. I'm just warning you in case we come across someone whose greed is playing up. But don't worry, I won't be the one to do it. I owe you my life, so if it does happen I won't shoot you down if you try to get away. Of course if you do get killed, don't think too badly if I stab the other one in the back at the first chance I get and turn in your carcass myself."

"Your morals are confusing at best," he said. "I can't tell if you're decent or not."

"I never claimed I was decent," she answered. "You saved my life, so I won't try to kill you. On the other hand, if someone else does the job right in front of me, I'm not going to turn down an opportunity presented to me on a silver platter. I'm not looking to be a good person, just one that's still alive. So if a stranger that I don't even know kills you, I certainly don't owe him anything, and you'll already be dead. Why not make the best out of the situation?"

"What if you're still stuck?"

"I'd wait 'till I was out before grabbing your head. I wouldn't owe him anything. He'd need me to get out too. Cancels any karma right out."  
"So why bring all this up?"

"You were the one who brought up if someone else was around first," she answered. "After all, you implied that if there was another mouse, I'd already be dead."

"I did say that, didn't I?" he asked as he stopped and ran his hand over a wall. "Sorry."

"Why?" she asked as she wondered what he was doing.

"For making you think I'd let you die out of cold blood for no reason."

"You would have if you had been with someone else, wouldn't you?" she asked. "That's okay, I never would have thought of helping you in the first place, even if I had been alone. We're in a war. What are you doing anyway?"

"Trying to think," he replied. "The mice population left marks on the walls years ago, sort of like mile markers, to let us know how far we were from anything. I can't find anything in the dark though."

"Just how far away is this part of the cave?" she asked.

"Not too far," he responded. "I was gone for I think maybe less than an hour before I came back."

"Really?" she asked. "Seemed like longer."

"To you, I imagine it must have," he answered then straightened up. "Tell me, why'd you get involved in this anyway?"

"I already told you," she said. "The money."

"Oh I know that, but I meant the fighting part. I don't imagine a Plutarkian would hire a civilian to fight if they didn't already know how to handle themselves. Even if they were rats."

"Like I said before, I learned how to take care of myself early on. After all, your Mars and mine are very different. I was selling my skills before Plutark became involved, but they just give higher paychecks."

"So what happens when you get off Mars?"

"Is there some reason why you're asking me all this crap?" she snapped at him. "Seriously, what the hell do you care?"

He shrugged.

"It's a long walk."

"Too bad," she said. "I'm not interested in entertaining you. Let's just walk."

"Okie-dokie."

She sighed, pretending she had not just heard the leader of a resistance movement say okie-dokie.

They walked in silence for a while, her limping behind him. The damage done by the cave-in seemed to vary as they walked. Most places looked only slightly worse for wear, but others she was surprised the walls were still intact. Every once in a while he'd stop to check how far they'd come until at last they came across a three-way passage.

"Which way now?" she asked, not knowing these tunnels well. The scouting mission had been deep in mouse territory, and she didn't like the fact that she was effectively lost.

He shone his flashlight down the middle hall.

"The other two are just dead ends," he explained. "One goes on for about a mile then just stops, and the other has a drop off after a few feet. This is the one we want."

"Is it much further?" Honestly she didn't want to admit it, but her leg was beginning to hurt more. The dull throb was starting to get stronger, sharp stabs of pain occasionally shooting through her knee.

"No, we'll be there soon."

"Good."

"What's the matter, don't like my company?" he asked as he turned around and waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Are you capable of being serious for even a moment?" she asked as she roughly shoved past him.

She barely stifled her gasp of anguish as she stumbled over a pothole in the floor. Arms grabbed her shoulders to steady her and held her up. Pain flared through her leg and she clenched her eyes shut, trying to will herself past it.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I tripped," she answered tersely. "Just give me a second."

"Would you like to sit down?"

"No!" she growled at him. "I want to get out of here and away from you. Now will you just shut up and let me go?"

"You know," he said as he shook his head. "You have some serious gratitude problems."

She frowned and shoved him away from her. With a small shrug he started walking.

After a few minutes the trail curved slightly and she saw what he was taking about. A large pile of rubble covered most of the exit. She saw tiny flickers of light seeping through the very top, but only slim rays of it. It could be dug through, but even with the two of them it was going to take time.

"Well," he said as he set the light down, "shall we get started?"

"Where does this lead to anyway?" she asked.

"It's about five miles south of Brimstone," he answered.

"Brimstone?" she asked, shocked. "Are you crazy? I can't be anywhere around there! Do you know what they'll do to me if I get caught?"

"I have a fair idea," he answered. "But don't worry, no one will be looking for you, so you have the advantage. I'm sure you'll get home safe and sound."

"You really do want me to live through this, don't you?" she asked slowly.

"Well yeah, I guess," he said. "You seem like an okay kid."

"I'm not a kid," she argued.

"Nega," he said. "I'm well into my late thirties. How old are you?"

"Twenty," she answered. "Sure you're not just getting old?"

"Brat."

"Can we just get started?"

He chuckled.

"Sure. I'm afraid I don't have any tools, so we're going to have to use our hands. I don't suppose you have anything?"

"My knife," she said. "But the things only five inches. "That won't do us much good besides for loosening up some dirt."

"Well, best get started with what we can do then," he said as he started towards the pile. "You just let me know if you get tired okay?"

"I'm sure I'll be able to keep up," she snorted.

Despite both of their talk, the work was hard, long, and exhausting. There were some boulders and rubble that they could barely get moved even when they both tried together. Dirt and sweat caked her fur, and she was glad she was already used to life as a foot troop or it might have really bothered her.

Stoker was resting on the floor after both had agreed it was time for a break. He looked a little out of breath.

"Here," she said as she pulled out a water skin from one of the pockets in her pants. "You look like you could use something to drink."

"Thanks," he said, sounding genuinely surprised.

She handed it to him and shrugged.

"I don't need you dying before we're done here. Just save some for me."

"No problem," he said after a sip. "How's you leg?"

"It's been better," she answered. True to her word, the limb felt like it was on fire. She was putting too much strain on it, but she knew she couldn't stop. There was still a lot of work to do, and if she didn't deal with it, then neither of them was going to escape.

"You should probably sit down." He patted the ground next to him and she arched an eyebrow.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Why not?" he asked. "I won't bite. You'd probably taste horrible anyway."

"Look, I'm putting up with you in order to get out of here," she explained. "Now will you knock it off with the cutesy act and be serious for a moment?"

"You really need to lighten up," he told her. "You'd probably be a lot less tense if you just learned to chill. Now just sit down. Give your leg a chance to rest. Come on, don't you wanna be friends?"

"I'm not the type that has friends," she said as she sat down, across from him though. She was not going to encourage this behavior. "And even if I was, are you forgetting the fact that I'm a rat? I hate mice, and I hate you."

"And how many mice have you known besides for me?"

She didn't answer.

"I'll tell you if you tell me," he goaded.

"Shut up," she said softly.

"Oh come on, what's the big deal?"

She wrenched her shirt off one of her shoulders and he stopped immediately. She figured he would have. The scar was long, starting from her neck to past her elbow, and he didn't even see all of it. Her fur didn't even cover it and she imagine the puffy pink skin must look as bad to him as it did to her every time she looked in a mirror.

"The very first fight I ever got in on the streets was when I was seven years old," she snarled at him. "Three mice saw me wandering around, and without any warning, just started to beat the crap out of me. They were all adults too. I was no threat to them; they just thought it was funny. And when I grabbed a piece of glass to try and defend myself, I nearly took one of the bastard's tails off, so they sliced me open for it. I was lucky I didn't die. I know mice, and I know rats, and I know those bloody Plutarkians. None of them care about me. I'm a big colossal joke to the whole planet, which is why I'm getting the hell off of it."

She expected him to apologize, at least a small sorry muttered out of embarrassment, but instead he sighed and handed her the water. She took it curiously before he was shrugging his vest and shirt off. She blushed for a second until she saw his chest. There were three small scars close to his heart, star shaped, and she recognized them as laser burns.

"I was fifteen," he said. "My home was attacked by Sand Raiders for supplies from the village. I tried to save my girlfriend at the time from being taken as well. Lucky for me those idiots never have been very good shots."

"Did you save her?" she asked.

"From being taken, yes. But she was still pretty hurt. Her windpipe was crushed when she tried to fight back. She couldn't speak, and breathing was real hard for her. She only lasted for about a year."

"Any scars that don't come from being a victim?" she inquired.

"Oh lots," he said and turned slightly and pointed to the small of his back. She almost winced when she saw several cuts overlaying each other. "Happened maybe a few years ago. There was a blast from a building, took a lot of the brunt of the damage. There were some wires, and I pushed a young punk out of the way to keep him from getting hurt."

Deciding this must have become about showmanship, she took a hold of her pants on one side and pulled it low enough to show him her hip, several drill marks in her skin.

"Six years ago," she told him. "It was the first time I sold myself off as a mercenary. Of course, we weren't in any kind of war back then, so the rich rat paying for us only wanted entertainment. We were more gladiators than anything else. I won the fight, but only barely. There was all sorts of tools around the room we'd been fighting in, and I let my guard down for a moment."

He removed the pants leg from one of his boots and showed her the ankle, a ring of charred flesh there. It looked like it had healed long ago, but the skin was still a sickening dark color.

"I was capture by rats once," he answered her unspoken question. "I'm sure you know about their little toys they use to keep prisoners and slaves from escaping."

She did. Seemingly simple looking steel circlets that were attached to someone's leg, it sent powerful shocks through anyone if they got to far from the remote, or if the holder of the remote was bored. She'd had one used on her in a practical demonstration in her 'training' and one shock had almost crippled her.

"How'd you get it off you so you could get away?" she asked.

"I didn't," he replied.

"You didn't do anything about the shocks?"

"Yeah, I just dealt with it."

She looked down at the ground, sighing softly before tugging back her hair a little to show her right ear, mostly missing.

"I was with someone once," she said. "I wouldn't call it romantic, but it had its moments. He was a hell of a fighter, but kind of stupid. When the Plutarkians came, he didn't want to work for them. Didn't trust them at all, certainly not to pay us, so he left. None of us tried to stop him, figuring hey, if he doesn't want the money, more for us, right? Three days later on patrol I found him getting attacked by Sand Raiders, so I tried to save his ass, taking a lot of them out. Suddenly I got a shot to the head and was knocked unconscious. The next thing I knew I was waking back up in the base, splitting headache and wondering how I'd got there. All I learned was that they found me at the gate, and I know those blasted hyenas wouldn't have let me go, much less bring me back."

"Sounds like maybe it was more romantic to him," Stoker said.

"Probably," she answered. "Hell, I never did see him again, so I'll never know for sure. But he was nice to have around."

"No thought of trying to find him again?"

"Hell, he left," she said. "I've been in the same place for a while now. If he wanted to find me, he would have already. No I'm just looking forward to getting away from here."

"What do you plan to do when you're gone?" he asked as he slipped his clothes back on.

"Not sure," she said. "Probably do what I do now. Be a mercenary. Heck, I hear the have boarding at Black Rock Asteroid right now. I may just head there."

"Seems a shame," he muttered. "Cute girl like you doing the soldier bit to survive. You should get yourself a nice mate and settle down."

"I'm not what I would call cute," she retorted. "And I'm not what you would call the settling down sort either. The last thing I need is a few brats and lousy husband to take care of."

"Don't see yourself in the mother role?" he asked teasingly.

"I have enough on my plate without having anyone else along for the ride. My mother was a horrible example, and I doubt I could do much better."

"Ah, I'm sure it'll hit you eventually," he said as he stood up and held out his hand to her. "Come on, let's get back to work."

She ignored him and stood on her own, but didn't snarl at him for it.

It took several more hours before either of them could crawl though, and both were exhausted by that point, but Stoker seemed in good spirits.

"It's not much farther to the surface," he told her. "Lets get going."

She nodded and began to follow, one arm braced on the wall to keep from falling, and he walked slowly to make sure he could catch her again if she did. He had offered to carry him, but her gun in his face warning him not to touch her had been enough to persuade him he probably was too tired to be able to do it anyway.

She squinted as daylight started to shine on the ground and she looked up to see the entrance to the cave. Her enthusiasm was short lived however when she heard a yell.

"Get away from him you, stinking rat!" was all the warning she had before she was tackled by a flying white blur. A fist slammed into her face and the mouse's weight landed on her bad leg making her howl in anger and pain. One hand slammed into his chin while she grabbed his throat and rolled them both over. She had her pistol pulled out and shoved into his temple before she heard the sound of two guns phasing up, ready to fire right on top of her head.

"Throttle, Modo, Vincent!" Stoker yelled and she looked up to see the general forcing a tan and rather large gray mouse to lower their arms. "Geez you punks can't even get one woman without loosing one of your men! I thought I trained you better than that."

"I was just taking it easy on her," the white mouse beneath her argued. She shoved her gun harder into his skull.

"Nega, get off of him," Stoker said tiredly.

"He attacked me," she said calmly. "Hey, you think anyone would believe me if I told the Plutarkians he was you?"

"Nega," he said warningly.

"Bah. Don't act as if I work for you," she said as she stood, 'accidentally' stepping on the young mouse's left knee as she did. "Little warning, don't ever take it easy on a rat."

Stoker sighed at her hissed warning to Vinnie, but that was it.

"Uh," the tan mouse said. "Are we missing something here?"

"We were stuck down here together when there was a cave in," Stoker said. "I wouldn't have gotten out of there if not for her. We saved each other's lives."

"Oh," the large mouse said. "Well thank you ma'am. I'm-"

"Save the introductions," she said sharply. "I'm not interested in whatever the hell your names are." She turned to Stoker, and frowned at him. "Look, now that we're out of here, I have to return to my own base. Its seems like we'll both be fine now, so we just forget we ever saw each other. We meet on the battle field, the fact that you saved my life doesn't matter, got it?"

He nodded and held out his hand.

"Oh fine," she said and shook it.

"Ride free citizen," he said with a smile.

"Whatever," she said then without any warning pointed her pistol still in her hand at the ceiling and fired before yanking out of his grip as the cave came down, blocking them in.

"Hey!" she heard someone yell. "What's the big idea?"

"Sorry old man," she said loudly and with a laugh. "But none of those boys saved my life, so I don't own them anything. I'm sure you'll get out soon, but not before I'm long gone. I just can't have you following me, you know."

She looked behind her and smiled. Four motorcycles sat there, three of them looked custom, but one she could tell was just the standard issue she'd seen most freedom fighters use. No doubt those three had brought one for their leader.

"Hmm," she muttered, as she looked it over. "That brown color actually looks kind of good. I guess I'll take it in payment for not telling the Plutarkians about the cave entrance leading so close to their next target. Give the mice in Brimstone a sporting chance I guess."

She slung her bandaged leg over and chuckled.

"Ride free General," she called before revving up and bike and riding off.

--

Kay, that was it. Anyone like it?

It was pretty fun to write Nega actually, she was nasty but not really what I'd call evil. If nothing else, she's interesting. I've always seen the rats in Biker Mice from Mars as more opportunists then really bad, its just bad acts usually bring them more profit, so they go with it.

I'm thinking of making more chapters, maybe when they run into each other after the war, but I'd like your guy's reviews first. Let me know if you want to see more of her and General Stoker goodness.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm glad this was met with such success. Great reviews and I had like five people add this to their favorites. Woot!

Well since it was requested, I am writing more. Please keep in mind, I really have no idea where this is going. I'll imagine a plot will hit me about three in the morning when I'm trying to sleep and it will be so awesome and so cool that I'll have to force myself to get up and write it or be forever plagued with the idea that I forgot but will always remember how great it was.

Until then, it's random filler time!

So, I don't own the Biker Mice from Mars. They belong to Mars. I don't own Mars. That belongs to the Martians, or do the Plutarkians still claim the planet? Well may they burn in hell, whether they do or not.

**Between a Rat and a Hard Place**

_**2**_

Stilton's Castle was not what Nega would have expected. Mostly, it smelled nice. Not just that it smelled normal, but she could swear the faint waif of flowers followed her wherever she went. She'd never smelled flowers that often, and certainly never would have expected to find the scent so damn strong in the building owned by a Plutarkian. There were few things that smelled worse than those fish faces, and things like sewer pipes weren't even on the top of the list.

She'd heard that this particular Plutarkian was odd in comparison to his peers when it came to cleanliness, but when she'd arrived at the palace, she was beginning to suspect it was more than just washing with water instead of mud.

She didn't even want to be here. It was always in her policy to stay away from the Plutarkians as much as possible. Oh sure they paid, but that was about the only thing good about them. They spit on you when they talked, raw garbage was usually friendlier on the nose, and she just had a general dislike for people who had had **much** more luxury than she had when growing up. Plutarkians, at least the ones who oversaw the mining of planets, had all grown up with silver spoons shoved in their mouths.

Unfortunately, she hadn't much of a choice. The battle to take the city Grenburg hadn't been much of an accomplishment. The city had fallen, but only after loosing several soldiers, both Plutarkians and rats, buildings were ruined and the place looked as if it'd already been dug up by those damn drilling machines. Of course, she doubted Stilton cared much for the loss of soldiers, and the city was due to be 'processed' soon, but the communication towers that had been decimated was causing a bit of a problem.

With no way to just link in and tell the head Plutarkian of the success the higher ups in charge had decided they'd simply send someone to deliver the good news. Nega had drawn the short stick as she was one of the few ones in the lower ranks with transportation (she'd never seen the reason to get rid of the bike she'd 'liberated'). But as a sergeant in what barely qualified as an army, she wasn't so low in the food chain that she went unnoticed when these little chores that were important despite being annoying needed to be taken care of.

In other words, she was expendable but important enough to do play little messenger.

Recon jobs were the pits, but she supposed it was better than getting shot at. There had certainly been enough of that the last couple days.

She figured it'd be a quick in and out, tell him the good news, take whatever orders the Lord of Fins had back to the front line, and head back to her company before trashing the next place on the list. Easy thing. Fast.

"I know I don't have an appointment," she argued with the guard, "but I do have news for him. I'm on his damn payroll."

"Yeah," the overweight Plutarkian, who looked as ridiculous in purple spandex as a larger alien fish could, commented in a bored drawl. "You're on his payroll. So you can wait. He has other matters to cover right now."

"Oh why don't you shove it?" she snarled. "We're in a war right now and-"

"And as long as he isn't on the front lines, he couldn't care less," a voice drawled behind her.

She turned and saw a tall rat standing there, dark brown fur and a lean status.

"I'm sure you'll be informed when he's ready to see you," he said simply. "Until then, care to join me downstairs? There's a bit of a Rec room down there. Stilton is generous to keep him employees entertained."

She crossed her arms, but shrugged. Standing here to argue with an over grown flounder wasn't much her idea of fun, and if she had to wait, she might as well keep her mind occupied.

"Did you really think you were going to talk to Stilton just by strolling in and demanding to see him?" the rat asked as the two of the walked off. He led her to a set of stairs and they began to descend it.

"It's a message," she stated. "Grenburg was taken. There, took me five seconds to say it. Probably would have taken me less time to say it to him considering how bad I want to get out of here."

The rat snickered.

"I take it you don't spend much time away from the front line?" he asked.

"Gee, how'd you tell?" she asked in mock sweetness.

"Well most would be happy for the change of pace," he responded. "I'm Flick by the way."

"Nega," she answered. "Gods, I hope I can get back soon. This really isn't suppose to take too long."

"Ah, take a load off," he responded as they reached the end of the stairs. He opened a door to a room where several rats and hyenas were sitting around, tables and chair spread out in the room and at many of them a game of cards being played. She followed him to an occupied table after he grabbed a couple of drinks from the large fridge.

"You all have this much free time, then he's more generous than I thought," she muttered.

"He's too busy to notice. We have to take our time off when we can," he noted. "Things have been busy around here for the last few hours. Lot of activity, especially in the lab on the second from top floor."

"What's going on?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Some mice from that Freedom Fighter group were captured and brought in today," he answered. "Brought straight to Karbunkle."

"That psycho?" she questioned, disgusted. She'd heard many things about that guy, and none of them good. The Terrain saw everything as a guinea pig for him to play with, and apparently the term "lab rat" was pretty literal for some of her species that had run afoul him. He was the kind of guy that you told stories about to your kids to get them to go to bed at night, and he probably would've liked knowing that too, the twisted maniac.

"Yeah, he seems pretty happy to have them to play with."

"Play with?" she asked with a frown. "God, what's that sick bastard doing?"

"Apparently some improvements," he responded. "A lot of them were pretty hurt. He's adding some bionic parts."

"And the point of that is?" she asked after she sipped on her drink. "Seems kind of stupid to be helping them."

Flick chuckled.

"What am I missing here?"

"He's got this weird machine," he said in a whisper she supposed he thought was dramatic. "It's this brain-washing thing. Takes someone and makes them pretty much a willing slave to the Plutarkians. He's gonna use it on all of them."

"Sounds like a typical mad scientist," she muttered. "Does it work?"

"That's what's so funny about it," he said. "It's already been used. And the guy they got, well lets just say that if it worked on him, no one else is going to be able to resist."

"Who'd they use it on?"

"Stoker," he replied with a laugh. "Can you believe it? The leader of the Freedom Fighters is right here, and would be willing to lick Stilton's boots if ordered too. The only problem is he's been going around ever since the machine scrambled his brain, acting like he owns the place. He's still as arrogant as ever."

Nega blinked. Stoker was here? She hadn't seen him for nearly half-a-year and suddenly they were on the same side?

"Ironic," she muttered into her drink.

"Yeah, makes me glad to be on the Plutarkians side already," Flick stated. "I'm getting paid and don't have one worry about being turned into some kind of zombie for their cause. Hell, bet you when this war is won they kill every single one of those damn mice they enslave just for the fact that they opposed them in the first place."

Nega frowned. Honestly, that wasn't a bet she was willing to take on. Chances are he was probably right. And even if it wasn't, the alternative was being willing slaves for the rest of whatever, fighting for Plutark and helping take over planet after planet. It'd be merciful just to kill them off.

"I think I'll go," she said as she stood.

"Huh? Where you going?" Flick asked.

"Think I'll check the place out a little," she said. "That and yell at that guard to let me in. I know Stilton is busy, but the universe doesn't revolve around Plutark, and neither does this rat."

"All right," he said with a small wave. "See ya."

She was heading back to the top of the castle, eager just to give her report and leave, now more than ever. She didn't know why, but something about the whole enslavement thing didn't sit right with her.

It's not that she didn't think the mice didn't deserve it, it seemed like bad karma they'd deserved for a while considering what had happened to her and other rats. But there was something unsettling about the thought of anyone becoming slaves to the Plutarkians through a little process with a machine. What if the fish suddenly decided they didn't want to pay their mercs anymore? She was working for them for the time being for the sake of getting off of Mars, but only until then. She had no intention of letting them slap some kind of programming in her head to get her servitude for the rest of whatever.

She only passed a few others as she walked. She bit her lip as she looked around. The floor she was on just happened to have the lab the Flick mentioned. She wondered, was Stoker in there right now?

Though even if he was, she had no reason to go looking. If he was under the influence of brainwashing, what was there for her to really do? It sucked for him, but there was nothing to do for it really.

And they were technically on the same side now. Okay she was a willing traitor to Mars for the sake of some quick cash and he was a zombie, but they were still now both out to see the planet mined to dust. It'd be down right stupid of her to seek him out and say anything to him, and what was there to say anyway? Heck, for all see knew he was a brain dead, mumbling moron by now.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

Okay, so she'd been wrong before.

She rolled her eyes and looked to Stoker. He looked no different than when she'd seen him last, before the fall of Brimstone and everything else that had been happening lately. He grinned just as much as he did when they were stuck in that blasted cave together. But there was a gleam to his eyes that she noticed. They were tinted green, and in the dim lighting, she could swear they were glowing.

"Nega," he said. "Never thought I'd see you again. What's shaking?"

If she hadn't heard that he'd been switched over to the other side she would have assumed he'd snuck in and pulled a gun out on him. That's just how damn normal he was acting.

"I heard you were here," she said. "I'm here to report to Stilton, and there were some rumors flying around."

"And you came to see me? That's sweet kid," he said, grinning and crossing his arms, leaning against the wall, cocky as ever. She noticed the slight swish of his tail and couldn't help but stare.

"What did that bastard do to you?" she asked all of a sudden. "What is that thing?"

"Oh this?" he asked and curled it in front of his body to let her see better. "An improvement by the good doctor. It's quite useful. And definitely going to be fun to use when I choke the rest of the resistance to death."

Nega wouldn't claim to know Stoker well. Hell, she didn't know him at all. But she knew this wasn't him. He didn't strike her as the type to enjoy hurting people, but the way he grinned at the thought of getting rid of his old comrades, it was no doubt from that machine.

"What happened to you was sick," she muttered.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I said you've fucking lost your mind," she snapped. "I don't know what the hell that freak Karbunkle did to you, but it's turned you into everything you hated. You're nothing but a puppet, and the fact that you can still think only makes you even more pathetic."

"Pathetic?" he asked, his friendly demeanor now gone. He was off the wall, standing over her and frowning, fists clenched. "I know who I serve. Plutark deserves this planet, hell this universe. It's their right. You said yourself that if I were smart I'd join up like you had."

She shook her head and allowed herself a mirthless little laugh.

"I'm getting something out of it," she responded. "And once it's all over, I intend to get out of here and never have to look at a slimy Plutarkian again. You, on the other hand, are nothing but a little pet. You're not getting anything. And now I plan to report and get the hall out of here."

He moved so fast she'd barely had time to whip out her gun before it was slapped out of her hand before she had a good grip on it. It clattered to the stone floor as one hand shoved against her throat, slamming her against the wall. Her head smacked into the crude brick and dazed her, small flashes of white light dazzling in her eyes.

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you, rat," he snarled. "I work for Plutark, but that doesn't mean I take lip from anyone else."

She twisted underneath him, shoving her knee into his gut. He let go with a grunt of pain and she yanked out her knife.

"Look," she huffed, trying to hide the fact that she was a little out of breath. Stoker was bigger than her and stronger too, a lot stronger. She'd had the wind knocked out of her from that little shove of his and knew if he jumped her again it wouldn't be so easy to fend him off next time. "I don't really care what side your on or why. Hell, even if I did what's it matter? You're being used, and then you'll probably be thrown away, but it doesn't affect me, so it's the end of the conversation, isn't it?"

He scowled at her but then scoffed and shook his head.

"Little merc isn't worth my time anyway," he muttered.

"Glad to know to know my place in your priorities," she answered before a fat Plutarkian came around the corner.

"You," he snapped at Nega. "Are you the one from the front lines? I believe you have a report to make to Lord Stilton."

"Yes," she answered.

"Hurry up then!" he yelled. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting. You should have just stayed downstairs where we could find you."

"Of all the…" she muttered as he stalked away. "Gods, I hate these guys."

She looked to Stoker, but he was already walking away. She shrugged and replaced her weapons. There was nothing to do for it. Things were the way they were. It's not like there was anything she could do… even if she did owe him her life.

"Shit," she muttered as she proceeded to the top floor. "I'm a rat, I shouldn't even have a conscious and now it's bothering me about something I can't fix anyway? What am I, a cosmic joke to the universe or something?"

If Stilton's castle was a surprise, it was nothing compared to the Plutarkian himself. She didn't think she'd ever seen so many ruffles in her life, and the way he would randomly wipe things off with his lace handkerchief was the most ridicules thing she'd ever heard of from one of these guys. His smell was even worse. While not the traditional 'animal left in the road to die on a hot day' smell, it instead seemed like he had bathed in perfume, and the strong smell was all but making her eyes water.

"I understand that you have news for me," he drawled.

"Yes sir," she responded, wanting to escape the odor more than anything else in the world. "Grenburg has fallen, after a three day siege. However, we lost all communications, and the repairs may not be done for a week. Do you have orders for what the company should do now?"

"Mmm," he muttered. "Keep the city secured. I don't want it to become a hassle like Brimstone did. Efforts taken to overthrow that city months ago, just to have to fight those resistant fighters to keep it. Thank goodness some of the mice in the government understand currency is the answer to these sort of arguments, but I have no intention of having to pay more when we're so close to finishing with this planet."

"Understood," she said and bowed lightly. Manners were best when you wanted a short conversation. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes. Wipe your feet next time you come into my presence," he complained.

'I'd like to wipe them on your face,' she thought merrily before the door burst open.

"What's the meaning of this?" Stilton yelled at the Plutarkian guard. "What do you want?"

"My Lord," he gasped. "Deep Pocket just radioed in. He's coming with a mouse, a General from the Martian Army. Also, there's some problems in the labs. The mice are tearing everything up!"

"Well, do something about it then!" he shouted.

"I'll just take my leave," Nega said, not caring if anyone was listening to her or not. Whatever was going on, she hadn't much interest in it. She slipped out the door before either Plutarkian even noticed her and was running down the stairs as fast as her legs could go.

Instincts were kicking in and telling her that something was about to hit the fan, and she preferred to be away from the place when the sirens stared going off. After all, it's not like she was being paid to guard this place. She had a war to get back to.

She was out in record time and climbing on her bike when she saw it. Down in the chasms below, a mouse. Curious, she pulled out a pair of binoculars and looked through them. It was a female, black hair and had the clothes of a soldier. And she just happened to be leaving behind a kid to guard a rat and a Sand Raider.

What, was she kidding?

Nega sighed. Well if fate wanted to present her with an opportunity, who was she to argue?

Sneaking up on him was easy. Too busy sulking and mumbling to himself, he didn't notice anyone behind him until he felt the gun pressed against his head.

"Hey kid," she said. "You lost? This is a bit far out for a mouse to be. Doubly so since I notice you don't have a weapon."

"Who's there?" he snarled.

"Kid I'll give you this, to speak in a tone like that to someone who has a gun on you, you have guts. But if you don't shut up they're gonna be the last thing you see hanging out from your stomach, got it?" Figuring she'd pulled the kids chain enough, she chuckled. "Look, I take this gun off you, you promise not to do anything stupid? I need a favor, and it'll be better if you live long enough to do it."

"What do you want?" he asked and she lowered her weapon. The pressure gone, he turned around.

"Now before you do anything dumb," she cut in before he could even bristle at her, "let's not forget that I'm armed, and you're not. I'm going to assume you know Stoker, and are here to help rescue him?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'll take that as a yes," she said. "He's up near the top floor in the lab. He's been brainwashed."

"So I've heard," he commented.

"My, doesn't the good news get around fast these days? Well, everyone knows your friend was coming, and I'm sure they'll be ready for her, including Stoker. And judging from the fact of how soft you guys are in battle, I wouldn't guess she'd be willing to shoot him."

"Man lady, you don't know Miss Carbine," he responded. "But you're right, taking him out just because he's been brainwashed isn't our style. He doesn't deserve that. So, going to gloat over me and think I can't get away to help her?"

"I'm telling you this so you will help her," she replied. "I don't know if there's a way to bring Stoker back, but if there is, I'm entrusting you guys to find it."

"Wait a second… what?" He looked honestly stumped.

"Stoker may be an enemy because of particular politics, but it isn't personal. In fact, he may be the only mouse I've ever considered likable, in an annoying sort of way. In any case, he rubbed me in a much better way as friendly enemy than a bastard of an ally. The war isn't personal, but my standing with him are, at least to me."

"I'm not sure I completely understand," he started.

"And you don't need to," she answered. "Just go."

She grabbed his arm just as he was about to run off and he gave her a confused look.

"Just one thing," she told him. "You can't tell anyone what I've done, not even Stoker."

"What? But why?"

"I'm still the enemy, kid. He saved my life, but while I do owe him something, even doing this little could land me in hot water. Sending you may not even do him any good, and you may have just run in on your own eventually, but there is a chance. Besides, I don't think I could deal with him getting the wrong idea about me. He thinks I'm a nice person as it is."

"I can live with that," he said and ran off.

"Well, time to check what the cat drug in," she muttered as she walked over to the rat. He was lying against a broken wall, head lying against his chest. She pointed her pistol at his knee, figuring what a nice distraction he'd make yelling and bleeding all over the place while the others got away, and leaving all the credit to the mice for doing it to him as she rode away free. He groaned softly as he stirred, looking up at her.

'Mace?' she thought as her eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed.

"Huh?" he murmured, still fighting to gain awareness. "Who…?"

"Stuff it," she replied as she knelt down next to him and made a point of jabbing his nose with her gun, hard. The sudden pain caused him to yelp before he realized who had the weapon on him.

"You know, I was considering the knee, but the face is a much more satisfying target. Though I guess you always enjoyed going for the back," she informed him. "Care to explain what you're doing here Mace?"

"Nega," he replied with a small smile, warily eying her gun. "What are you doing here?"

"Delivering a message to the head Plutarkian Overruler himself," she replied. "Some of us have real work to do."

"I take it'd be a bad idea to ask how you've been doing lately?"

"Got it in one shot," she answered. "Last I heard you were off making nice with the mouse population against the Plutarkians. So you're Deep Pocket? Mind if I ask you whose pocket you're in for this week?"

"That was nothing but cover," he answered. "Figured as long as I was going to loose my home I should make some profit off of it. And as long as I was going to make some money it was going to be some real cash and not some petty fee as a pawn to get shot at. This way I had some info on them already. I've been making a killing as a spy, in more way than one if you'll pardon the pun, and all because of their trust in me."

"Yeah I see that trust was warranted," she responded as she looked down at the mouse mask near his feet.

"I've been using that for years," he answered. "Think they'd trust one of us?"

"I wouldn't," she answered as she stood. "But you've always been slippery, even for a rat. I was fourteen when you drove that electric screwdriver into my hip, and barely fifteen when you screwed me over again, if you'll pardon the pun. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you out of spite?"

"Because in my position, you would… Ah, who're we kidding? You did do the exact same thing," he answered. "That, and I saved your life."

'Dammit,' she thought as she holstered her gun. "You know, karma has been playing with me a little too much these days. Why is it that all my debts are biting me in the ass lately?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Never mind that, where did those two mice go?"

"What mice?" she responded as he got up. "When I found you, you were all alone. Well, you and the Sand Raider, but that thing hardly counts, now does it?"

"Great," he growled. "Looks like my cover is pretty much blown. Unless they get caught in the castle, but that bitch has such a talent for getting in the way that I doubt it'll do much good. I wouldn't be surprised if she's already linked in to the base and blabbed to everyone."

"Well sucks to be you," she answered. "Maybe you'll be forced to play one side from now on."

"I've always been on one side."

"Yeah, yours. Which is true of any rat, so I guess I can only fault you so much," she sighed. "Well… guess I'll get going. Just so you know, things look like their going to get pretty hectic in there. And I doubt I'll get much of a bonus for sticking around to help out if things get out of control."

"Nega," he started and reached for her shoulder.

"It's been nearly seven years since Plutark started to buy up this planet," she said as she shrugged his hand off. "I don't think you have touching privileges anymore."

"Maybe I should work on that," he responded. "What company are you with? We can get some drinks when this is all over."

"No deal," she stated. "Besides, knowing you, I'll never see you again."

"I hope I disappoint you," he answered.

"Well, you have had practice at it."

"You know, it's not like I could take you along with me. You've always been too honest for a rat."

"Honest, huh? Dear ol' mom and dad use to call it being weak," she mused. "Guess it's the same in most books?"

If he was about to say something, she didn't catch it as she gave into an insane urge and stroked his face, burying her fingers into his fur.

"For what it's worth, I guess I owe you a thank you for saving me from those Sand Raiders."

"You saved me first," he answered, returning the affection she was allowing herself. "It was the least I could do, to bring you back."

"Good luck," she said as she pulled herself away from him. "Don't get yourself killed, okay?"

She should have slugged him when he kissed her on the top of her head. Just like when she'd been a kid, not that he'd treated her like a kid for long. But from the sounds of explosions coming from the castle, it was about time to book it.

"See ya later Mace," she said before heading to her bike. He didn't answer, but then he was probably pretty busy all of a sudden.

---------

I have no idea where that came from, so don't even ask. Her old flame was supposed to be some nameless character that she didn't even care about anymore, but somehow it morphed into this. My stories have a bad habit of running away with themselves. But considering we all know how he ends up, she'll probably never see him again.

In a twisted sort of way, I liked the idea actually.


	3. Chapter 3

This is sort of an add-on to my story, Between a Rat and a Hard Place. I made a slight mention of Mace/OC and found myself quite liking it really. I've pretty much defined where they stand with each other and hinted at how their relationship panned out, but I wanted to write it out for the fun of it. This takes place when she's fourteen, about to turn fifteen, and their relationship from how they meet to when they break up.

So, I don't own Mace or the Biker Mice from Mars series. I do own Nega though. Gotta love the girl.

Between a Rat and a Hard Place 3

"That hurts!" Nega yelled angrily at the medical attendant looking over her. The male mouse simply rolled his eyes and pressed the rag doused in antiseptic harder against her hip. She winced in pain, but reframed from howling out again. She gritted her teeth and tried to find something to look at in the small room, shelves crammed with medical supplies on the level of what you'd find of a first aide kit "Fuckin' butcher."

Really, it hurt even before this sorry ass treatment. Getting a drill shoved into your hip several times wasn't fun, but at least she was getting paid a bonus for entertaining her 'employer'.

Flance was a rare thing on Mars these days. He was a wealthy rat. Literally, he could swim in his money if he wanted to, and his home was more of a castle than a mansion. It sat atop a hill overlooking Renset, one of the few cities that had both rats and mice in it, and none of them known for their good natures. Even Flance, who was getting on in years, had been an assassin, though had now retired.

She'd heard of this place. It was a where immorality ruled, and she had never considered moving here until she'd been assigned to it. When she saw the notice board of the Mercenary Guild, she noticed that the old man was hiring mercenaries as bodyguards, she figured she'd have a decent chance of getting hired, after all she could fight. A couple months with regular paychecks, not to mention free room and board, had seemed the perfect way to get her feet wet.

She still owed money to the Guild for the years they'd 'trained' her when she'd run to them as nothing more than a beat up kid with nowhere else to go, and until it was all paid back, she worked for them and there was no getting jobs where they didn't receive a cut. Of course interest had collected by quite a bit, so she had quite a bit that she still owed.

Taking this offer seemed great. The employer was rich, a rat, and was offering a place away from the Guild. She'd be getting paid and not having to worry about digging herself even deeper in debt by eating their food, sleeping on one of their cots, breathing their air.

Actually, the air probably was the next on the list that they would charge her for.

Of course, she hadn't known that guard had actually meant entertainment, leaving her to have to fight for the amusement for the old bastard.

The stitches were sewn up quickly, bandages were slapped on, and the chocolate colored mouse told her almost gleefully that there would most definitely be scarring before moving off to do something else.

She narrowed her eyes and wondered if anyone would believe her if she said she had pulled the trigger on her gun on accident.

"You did fight pretty well today," a voice said to her right.

She twisted around lightly to see the rat she'd gone up against earlier that day standing in the doorway. There were some bandages on his arm were she had bitten him, but aside from that, he didn't look to bad. She knew there were some scratches on his stomach, but he'd obviously changed out of the tattered shirt, into a new one, hiding the damage.

"Guess you passed the job interview," he stated.

"Job interview?" she repeated. "Why do I get the feeling that's not the last time I'll have to prove I can keep a job?"

"Ah, most of it really is just making sure this place doesn't get busted into, but yeah, old man Flance gets bored pretty easily.

"Hasn't the guy ever heard of T.V.?" she asked. "We get it off Earth about as easily as the radio."

The rat chuckled.

"You want to get something to eat?" he asked. "Dinner is about to be served up in the servant's quarters."

Nega lifted an eyebrow at him.

"You just shoved a screwdriver into my hip and tore my flesh out," she told him incredulously. "What makes you think in the seven hells I would want to eat with you?"

He laughed lightly and ruffled her hair, taking his arm away just in time as she tried to swing at it to make him leave her alone. She overbalanced lightly from the cot she was sitting on and as she steadied herself she noticed he was still snickering at her.

"What's so damn funny?" she snapped as she slid down from the cot and glared up at him. It did not do much though, as he was just over a foot taller than her. Small stature, and she hadn't had much of a growth spurt yet, he towered over her. It took everything she had to remind herself that size didn't matter and she had beaten him, and it didn't even help much.

"Don't take things so personally babe," he stated. "Everyone here is just out to make some cash. Be more practical."

"Nega," she snarled at him.

"Hm?"

"Nega, it's my name."

"Don't like babe?" he asked teasingly.

She sighed. She was short, dressed like a boy, and if it weren't for the fact that she had developed into her body at least a little, she imagined she would have looked like one too. She wasn't really what anyone would call a babe.

"You're a rookie," he stated and walked out the room.

"What?" she snapped and followed after him. She ran after him in the hall, ignoring the pain in her hip, and wove around him, forcing him to stop. "What did you say about me?"

"You're a rookie," he repeated. "It's obvious that this is your first job."

"How could you tell?" she asked, her stomach tying itself in a knot. She tried to believe that her tone did not really sound that unsure of herself.

"You were intense, not only the way you fought, but just the vibe about you. The look in your eyes… you were terrified of loosing. So, you grew up in the slums too?"

She nodded her head, slowly.

"Don't feel bad," he said. "Just about everyone here did. Loosing meant getting killed so often it's normal to have that reaction." He smiled at her. "Keep in mind though, you need to be a little less personal here. It's just a job."

If it hadn't been for his reassuring tone, she would have sworn he was making fun of her. But the way he spoke, she had a feeling he was honestly relating to her. He didn't look more than nineteen or so, but she just knew somehow that the gap between them was even wider in experience than in years.

"See you later kid," he said and ruffled her hair again.

She snorted and decided she wanted some painkillers.

---------

Her room was small, but honestly better than she thought it'd be. She had been use to billets where there were about twenty cots and several other females to have to share space with, but her room had only two beds and a thin metal trunk at the end of each. There was also a bathroom that she promised herself she would use later to change her bandages.

In one of the beds someone was already laying, tail flicking lazily off the side and her face hidden by a book.

"Hey," a feminine voice stated but didn't look over at her.

"Hi," Nega said, and it seemed that was the end of the conversation. She slipped her canvas bag off her shoulder and tossed it into her trunk. Nothing more than a couple of extra pairs of clothes and a cleaning kit for her pistol, she figured she didn't need to worry about sorting it out.

"You the one who beat Mace today? Nega, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

The book was set aside and the woman she was sharing the room with sat up. Nega stared, feeling that if Mace called her a babe, he must have never seen this female rat. A body that would have looked very nice in a pin up, she was clothed in black tights and a blue denim skirt, dark green tank top, and a short sleeve brown jacket along with boots and fingerless gloves. Her albino body seemed exotic from her pink eyes and fur that was pure white. Hair was tied into a long braid and her bangs held out of her eyes with goggles setting on top of her head.

In comparison to her, Nega suddenly, clothed in her tan pants and black t-shirt, felt about as good as a burlap sack.

And the woman was tall too.

"The name's B.B.," she said. "Congratulations."

"For what?" Nega asked.

"For what you did to Mace," she answered. "The best way to get respect around here is to win your first fight, and luckily Mace has such a good reputation around here, no one is going to think twice about one loss on his record sheet."

"He's good huh?"

"Better than average," she replied with a shrug, "but not like some of the large brutes around here. No, it's that boy's charisma that makes him who he is."

"Charisma?" Nega asked. "Are you kidding?"

"Hey, when you can get the large guys to like you, there's a lot of your own fighting you don't have to do. He's even got some of the mice talking nice to him, and we usually just tolerate each other."

"Why would Flance hire mice, anyway?" she asked and frowned. "I'd never work with one willingly, even if it meant my life. What are those idiots good for besides making our life hell?"

B.B. stood up and stretched, and Nega immediately looked away. She was young, and a girl, but even she found herself a little attracted to this beauty. The men must have dogged her steps all the time.

"Actually," she said as she settled back down on her bed, "Mace is what you could call a data collector in a way. He loves learning about other cultures, and is quite good with the communication equipment here. He started as a little technician, but ended up handling a lot of the equipment. I'm sure Flance would love to put him in charge, but Mace isn't the type to take responsibility if it cuts too far into his free time. One thing he'll never give up is his study time."

"Sounds sort of strange," Nega commented.

"It's smart," B.B. replied. "I'm going to tell you one thing right now Nega, you find an opportunity, take it. If you're a merc at your age you must be tough despite your size, but use your head too. Any true rat survives on their wits, and not their body."

Nega arched her eyebrow and she giggled.

"Well, you know what I mean. So, what made you decide to come to homey little Renset?" she asked.

"First job," Nega answered. "I'm not much more than a guard. I needed to pay back the Guild as soon as possible. Now that I've learned everything their teaching, I want to pay them and move on with other things. This was the best way to do it."

"Ah, I see. Well, good luck with that," she said.

"We are paid to kick the crap out of each other all the time?"

B.B. laughed.

"No, that's more orientation than anything else. At least, the ones that Flance officially sets up. More often than not he'll just wait for a fight to break out by itself, and it happens enough to keep him happy. But a guard is an easy job. You'll have a five hour shift of rounds to make every day and sometimes watch duty after dark. But aside from that, it's nothing much. The rest of the time, you're pretty much free to do as you please."

"What about you?" Nega asked.

The albino rat's eyes twinkled.

"I specialize in a different sort of entertainment," she replied and stretched lightly to emphasize her point.

"You're a pros-"

"I don't do any business in the room Nega, don't worry," she replied with a laugh. "See, it's better than the streets, and the boys like having someone who gets checked regularly and they know is clean. Of course, I can handle myself in a fight too, or otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"Oh," she said, her voice small.

"I imagine tomorrow will be long for you," B.B. said in motherly tone, and somehow it fit her. "You should get some sleep."

---------

As the weeks passed, Nega found herself actually getting comfortable in her new home. The place was the most comfortable she had ever lived in, and there weren't often times that she found herself needing to leave to go into town. The mansion was more of a city in itself, plenty of food shipped in, a place to sleep every night, and as B.B. had put it, plenty of 'entertainment to find'.

The occasional fight would break out in the halls, and she found herself drug into a few of them. It was the norm around here, but while before in her life a fight had meant getting robbed or killed or something like that, this was more for the fun of it than anything else. Heck, there were people who even had bet on them, and she was kinda proud to know some of them had been on her.

Even the work was easy once you got the hang of it. The term guard was obviously just a joke, but it did come with some responsibilities. Making sure no one broke into the place to steal anything, but more often than not a card game or two would happen while keeping watch.

Seriously, why try to rob the place when you could just get hired?

Flance was interesting too. An elder rat who probably only had a few years left in him, he obviously wasn't too concerned with things like money anymore. His spending would have definitely broken him if he was younger, but by the time he ran out, he'd probably be dead anyway, so he didn't seem to care. He bought his employee's loyalty with money, but his generosity made everyone more then willing to sell out to him.

Nega would sometimes dislike the fact that she was one of the youngest ones there, but most people didn't treat her that way. Aside from the occasional newbie or kid comment, everyone respected the fact that she had the exact same job as everyone else, and got paid just as much. Everyone there was a professional.

She was due for her first night watch in about fifteen minutes, and was getting ready to go. B.B. was gone, no doubt 'working'. She felt a slightly blush creep over her face. The fact that the thought of what her roommate did for her money kept on embarrassing her reminded her of the fact that she still was a kid, no matter how much the world had forced her to grow up fast.

Leaving the room and walking briskly to the tower she was supposed to stay at for the next few hours, she made sure she had a little spare change still in her pocket. Actually, she was getting pretty good at the card games lately, especially this interesting Earth game called Black Jack.

It was a bit breezy, but her fur would keep her warm, even on a cold night like this. She settled herself on a crate serving as a chair and made sure the binoculars were close by.

She was just wondering who was going to be her company for the night when she saw Mace slipping through the door. She found herself groaning slightly and told herself that this evening was suddenly looking to be a lot less enjoyable.

"Well, hey there kid," he said. "Didn't know you were going to be here."

"Shove it," she said, barely even putting any feeling into it. She didn't want to encourage him by seeming like she was eager to argue with him.

If there was one thing to make living there perfect, it would be if Mace suddenly fell off the face of the planet. He seemed to take pleasure in teasing her any chance he got, and it happened only too often. She strongly suspected it was some form of petty revenge for loosing to her, but mostly because she couldn't think of any other reason.

He didn't say a thing, but she got the distinct impression that he was snickering at her in the safety of his head.

"What are you doing here?" she suddenly blurted out. "The guys in communication don't get guard duty."

"Not unless they ask for it," he replied and sat down next to her. "I wanted to talk."

"But you just said you didn't know I was going to be here!" she exploded. "You liar!"

"True, what else have you noticed about me?" he asked with a disarming smile.

She groaned and looked over the wall into the city and saw nothing interesting happening. She checked through her binoculars just to be safe. Still nothing.

"Shit," she muttered.

"Oh, nothing to do but talk to me?" he asked. "Tough break kid."

"I am not going to be talking to you," she snapped at him. "And you are not going to talk to me. We are going to sit here and ignore one another, got it?"

"No," he told her.

"Why not?" she grumbled.

"Well, because you swell up so nicely when I get you angry," he told her. "It's cute."

"Will you stop with all the kid crap?" she asked.

"But you didn't want me to treat you like an adult," he said with a shrug.

"When did I say that?"

"When you said I couldn't call you babe."

"I wanted you to call me by my name!" she yelled. "Which you never have, by the way!"

"Call me Mace once, and I might consider it."

"What?" she asked, feeling much like a deflated balloon.

"You know, call me Mace," he answered. "Not creep, or asshole, or jerk, or bastard, or fucker, or-"

"Okay," she interrupted. "I get the point…Mace."

"Thanks Nega," he said and swooped down, brushed her bangs out of the way and kissed her forehead before she could even blink.

"Hmm, reflexes are kind of slow," he noted before she slugged him.

Her frustration seemed to have just snapped and she just jumped him, intent to beat the crap out of him. They rolled around on the floor for a few minutes, him laughing the whole time. She finally got him on his back, one hand clenching the scruff of his neck and the other raised to hit him again before she became strangely aware of the fact that his hands were on her hips.

She swallowed and he was smirking, his hand so close to her pistol that he'd have it before she could grab it.

"Okay, you win," she snapped and let him go, trying to get up. But his grip only tightened and she struggled uselessly. "Mace? Mace let go."

"No," he stated calmly and only shifted her slightly so he could sit up and wrapped his arms around her waist and back to keep her in place.

Nega felt her breathing hitch at being so close to this guy, sitting in his lap with her legs around him, and him HUGGING her. Heat flushed to her face and she told herself firmly that his head wasn't resting comfortably on her own.

"Stop," she said weakly. "Whatever this is, stop it."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you're scaring me," she replied, wishing her voice didn't sound so pathetic. This situation was bad enough.

"All right," he said and released her, but not before giving her another kiss on her forehead. "Anything you're not comfortable with, I'm not going to push it."

She scrambled away from him as fast as she could, determined not to look at him. He said nothing the rest of the shift, and she never plucked up the nerve to check to see if he was looking at her. The hours passed slowly, but when it ended, she ran from the tower, nearly knocking their replacements down as she went.

B.B. was back, but Nega thanked the gods the woman was already asleep. She didn't think she could have faced anyone at the moment.

---------

Whatever had come over Mace had obviously been a joke. He acted the very same around her as he had before. She wasn't sure whether she was relieved or not. The whole thing had been weird. Actually, she was pretty sure that was the first time she'd ever been hugged.

Oh fuck, what had she ever done to deserve him?

The only thing that had changed, is he never stopped kissing her anymore. Half the time she mopped the floor with him for it, the other half she got embarrassingly tossed aside, and she quickly learned that Mace was playing with her. It wasn't that he was really tougher than her, he just knew more, and his size helped him too. The only reason her reputation wasn't suffering is he always did it when he caught her alone, which in a mansion that held nearly a hundred different beings, it didn't happen too often.

She'd like to think it caught him off guard when he had found her at four in the morning, coming back from one of her night shifts and ready to go to bed, when he'd swooped in on her with a fast hi and she didn't even react to the peck.

He stared at her, waiting for a second before poking her in the arm. She glared at him.

"Hmm, not broken," he said before he bent down for another.

"I really wish you'd stop that," she muttered after he kissed her forehead.

"Why?" he asked. "You always use to get so angry when I did it."

"Because I'm not a child," she snarled out. She was tired and wanted to get some sleep.

"Care to prove that?" he asked, leaning over slightly, to look her eye to eye.

"I just want to go to bed," she snapped.

"All right," he said and she cried out in surprise when he swept her up in his arms and started to walk to his room.

"What are you do-" was all she was able to get out before he kissed her, but on the lips this time. Her eyes went wide, but she didn't fight it.

It felt sort of nice.

They must have been close to his room, because in no time they were inside of it, and he was laying her down on his bed, removing her boots before attending to his own.

"Where's your roommate?" she asked, simply because she needed something else to distract herself with whatever was going on. She was a little worried. There was only one bed.

"I have a single room," he replied with a laugh. "Won it in a bet."

She nearly squeaked when he removed his shirt and climbed in with her.

"Mace!" she shrieked as he lifted her shirt as well, but only by a few inches. He ignored her and rolled on top of her to keep her from getting away.

Nega felt her breathing hitch as Mace stroked her stomach. Heat flushed to her face and she gasped softly as he nuzzled at her neck.

"M-mace," she whimpered.

"Mmm-hmm?" he mumbled against her.

"What are you doing?"

He chuckled but didn't give her an answer, instead gently nipping her throat, causing her to gasp. She clenched his fur in her hands, not sure if she wanted to push him away or hold him there.

Something in her head told her she shouldn't be so passive, that every second she just let him do what he wanted it was going to be harder to get him to stop. But she couldn't get it though her head why he was doing it in the first place.

He lifted her shirt up a little further, fingers grazing her sports bra and she yelped, trying to push him away from her, but her attempts were futile, and only seemed to amuse him further.

"Oh yes little one, try to stop me… if you can" he breathed in her ear. "If you want to."

She groaned at the sultry words, and the idea of what he wanted started to become clear.

"Why?" she whined. "I'm just a kid."

She couldn't bite back the groan when he gently squeezed one of her breasts through her bra.

"Don't feel like one to me," he stated and licked her neck. "Don't taste like one either."

"Just go to B.B.," she said quickly. "She'd be happy to."

"That one?" Mace asked. "Why? I want you."

"Want… me?" she repeated weakly then suddenly bucked into him. "Ugh!"

"Oh, you like that?" he asked as he gently tugged at her ear again with his teeth.

She felt tears prickle in her eyes. She was terrified, and of so many things it was crazy. Need was swirling inside of her, and she felt a very odd sensation in her lower stomach that she found herself liking. She knew what sex was obviously, but she'd never done anything like this. Mace… he was her first kiss, and seemed very determined to become her first fuck too. Only, his determination was scaring her. Would he force her?

The thought made her suddenly feel like she was back on the street, the one she'd clawed her way out of because she knew what happened to the females that were old enough to sleep with but not strong enough to defend themselves.

"Mace stop!" she screamed and pushed harder, causing him to pause in his ministrations and look at her.

He seemed genuinely surprised by her tears and frightened look.

"Nega?" he asked and she shook her head.

"Don't force me," she pleaded, too scared to care she was acting like a child. She was one dammit! "Please… just stop."

"Okay," he said soothingly and simply lay down next to her. His hand withdrew from her shirt and straightened it before his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him in a hug. "Lets just get some sleep."

She was too surprised to say anything. Instead she slowly ran her hands over his chest before tentatively closing her eyes and buried her head in his chest.

"Why are you doing all of this?" she asked softly.

"What?" he asked, his chest rumbling lightly against her hands.

"Being so nice? Why'd you stop?'

"Because you asked me to," he said, his tone suggesting how pointless he found her question.

"I… I don't understand," she said.

His arms tightened and he was kissing her again, his tongue tracing her lips to ask for entrance. She opened her mouth uncertainly, and awkwardly tried to keep up with his pace. It was slow, and sensual, and the only thing that moved besides their mouths was his tail as he wrapped around one of her knees to drag her leg over his hip. Everything he did was gentle, letting her stop him if she wanted.

"I want you," he said softly when he finally ended the kiss, leaving Nega feeling very flushed. "I figured that was pretty clear. You've obviously never been flirted with as a kid."

"That crap was flirting?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah," he said with a shrug. "The whole teasing the girl to show you how much you like her is fairly routine at your age."

"And how old are you, asshole?"

"Old enough to use the direct approach," he said, "and then you started to cry."

"I…" she attempted to speak, but received yet another kiss on her forehead.

"It's all right,' he said. "We'll both be around for a while. And I like a challenge."

"So I'm entertainment?" she asked. "B.B. is no good because she'll just say yes and charge you?"

"B.B. is no good 'cause _I want you_," he growled out. "I want to spend time with you, talk with you, tease you even, just to see your different reactions. I also happen to want to fuck you into this mattress until you're barely able to move, and make you beg me to keep going anyway."

She gasped and twisted her face away from him.

"Would you…"

"I am not going to force you," he insisted. "Ever, I promise. A man admitting he's so ugly, poor, weak, stupid, and basically useless that he can't persuade even one woman to be with him and he can only get one by raping her is pathetic in my mind. Anyone who does that needs to just be shot."

She was surprised by something that seemed like honor escaping his lips. She swallowed and wondered if this was such a bad idea.

"Nega," he said, his voice showing just the slightest bit of strain. "You need to stop rubbing against me or sleeping might be hard."

She thrust her hips into his a little more forcefully and he growled.

"Nega, I'm serious… if you get scared again-"

"Kiss me?" she asked and pulled his face to hers.

He seemed to understand he was receiving an approval and groaned as he invaded her mouth. The small bed seemed suddenly bigger as he quickly stripped her of her shirt and pants, pausing at her scarred shoulder. But he didn't ask about it, instead dipped his head and licked along it with the tip of his tongue.

"Ngh," she grunted and thrust the back of her head deep into the pillow, the sensations overwhelming her. "Mace… gods, Mace."

"Touch me," he said. "Go on little one."

She reached for him slowly, stoking along his chest. His chest was safe, she'd touched that already.

"Nega," he breathed. "You know what I mean."

"Um," she said then nodded. "Okay."

She was surprised when he grabbed her wrists when she reached for his belt.

"I guess you don't know what I mean," he chuckled. "That's okay, you'll learn."

He moved them around until he was sitting on the bed and had her straddling him. He had used his tail to move the pillow so it cushioned between his lower back and the wall, and used his hands to guide hers over his body. His chest, stomach, arms, sides, everywhere, and he moaned softly when she began to drag her nails into his fur.

"Yes," he hissed. "Like that."

"Mace," she whispered, a little unsure, even as she continued without his aide. "Why me… I mean… I'm kind of puny."

Really, there was no kind of about it. She was all of four foot and five inches. Her breasts were between a B and a C, and she had a feeling she wasn't getting too much more in either department. She hated being a runt.

"I just do," he groaned. "Just… Fuck!"

She'd just moved her hips a little to get more comfortable, but had felt the pleasure shoot through her as well when she felt his bulge press against her loins. She blushed as she stayed there, awed at how hard he was.

"NegAaah!" he yelled when she pushed herself harder against him before withdrawing and doing it again, wanting the pace and pressure. She felt herself starting to get wet at the feel of him, her body feeling light and sort of funny all over again.

"Mace?" she asked, uncertainly at his clenched face. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"If I didn't know better I'd swear you were teasing me," he growled and grabbed her hips to lift her a few inches off of him. "Stop. That feels great, but stop."

"Why?" she asked. "Don't you like it?"

Oh crap, maybe he was reconsidering. Why'd she have to be so stupid as to point out exactly why he should kick her out of bed?

"…insist on rushing," she heard him mutter before his hands and his tail whipped out and twisted around her. "Look, I am going to show you everything there is to know about making love, but you need to be patient. I am not going in my pants because you insist on running to the last part."

"Making… love?" she squeaked out. "Love?"

He smirked, somehow seeming warm and inviting when he did it.

"I'm your first," he responded. "Of course you're going to love me."

And while she was lay there, curled into his body, long after his hands and mouth and whole body had been stilled by sleep, she had to admit that she thought he was right. And she found herself hoping that he loved her too.

---------

Ta da! I bring you the end of this little chapter. There will be a second, when she's a little older and acting a bit more like the adult we know her as. I'm sure no warnings are needed that it's going to be a little less cheerful than this bit. Yes they are going to leave each other, but everyone already knew that.

And I hoped everyone liked B.B. A motherly prostitute for a roommate, just what every 14-year-old girl freshly out of training to be a merc needs.


End file.
